What To Say When the Elves Show Up

(A Food Garden Court Story)

by Jeff Baker

The Mall was in an uproar.

Well, almost.

Skid and T’amec weren’t too worried. Their jobs at the Food Garden Court (“Slinging meat and pouring broth,” as Skid said) weren’t really the type of employment that offered job security. Plenty of hours but still part time work as far as the company was concerned. And whatever labor dispute was going on in the Mall it wasn’t going to affect them, at least not badly.

“Long as I don’t get fired, demoted or turned into anything,” one of the other employees had said.

It had all hit a couple of weeks earlier. Mall Management had gotten notice from “those who claim domicile” over the property that their lease was up. Negotiations were underway and at the very least the Mall would be under new management. At worst, everybody would be evicted. Or something in between.

The Mall Manager, Mr. P’maced, had dropped by the Food Garden Court for a cup of broth and had muttered “It’s no fun negotiating with Elves.”

T’amec had never actually seen an Elf before. Skid had, and warned him “they don’t like to be called ‘Elves.’”

“I’ll remember that,” T’amec said, busy replacing one of the empty pans out front with a pan of meat. “I gotta admit, if this place goes down the tubes, I’m not gonna be too upset.”

“Yeah.” Skid said. “No advancement. Not much in the way of raises. Just glad my rent’s so cheap.”

“Yeah, and I’m glad I can help you with that.” Skid said. “I have nothing better to spend my money on.”

They both laughed. Skid had been sleeping over at T’amec’s cramped little apartment a few blocks away and they’d been getting carry out from all the Mall food places instead of cooking.

“I cook all day, I don’t wanna do it when I get home.” T’amec had said.

The two twenty-somethings were still hanging onto the idea that they were just really good friends, despite snuggling up to each other in the dark in bed. T’amec was tall with grubby blondish hair and Skid was short with darker hair. Skid hadn’t officially moved in but he was helping pay some of the bills, despite still living with his Mom and Dad.

Anton Cardo, the kid who worked at the Augury Shop in the Mall walked up and ordered meat with broth. He was dressed in the long dark robes that he wore when being professional as opposed to his usual slacks and t-shirt with the shop logo.

“Heard anything?” Skid asked.

“Sort of.” Anton said. “Mrs. DuPass in the scrying shop,” he glanced at the upper level of the Mall, “told my boss she’s been eavesdropping on the negotiations in her crystal ball. Not going that well.”

Skid shook his head. “Yeah, I’m not surprised.”

“Part of it has to do with the layout of the back service corridors,” Anton said. “They say it is the same as one of their mines that used to be here so it’s disrupting skinetic fields or something like that.”

Skid didn’t spend a lot of time in the service corridors. Their storeroom was right inside the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY and he always wondered what might be lurking down at the end. And had no desire to fined out.

“Here you go,” Skid said, handing Anton his order. Then, glancing around quickly he added “On the house.”

“Hey, thanks!” Anton said. He started to walk away then turned and said; “Mrs. DuPass would say that’s an omen that the Mall is going to go under.”

Skid and T’amec glanced at each other and shrugged.

The next day, Skid and T’amec opened up the Food Garden Court as usual when one of the Security Guards walked up and told them about some excitement the previous night.

“Two of the Elves hopped over there to Sand Witches and placed an order,” he said. “Sat right on the ledge where they set the food trays. Bunch of sandwiches with a lot of tomatoes and peppers and specified ‘No metal utensils.’ Apparantly the metal furnishings in the head office offended them or something. You know how Elves are.”

Skid and T’amec weren’t exactly sure how Elves were but they were glad they hadn’t waited on them. them. Too much could go wrong.

The Guard pulled out his phone. “This was caught by the security cameras. Look.”

He showed Skid and T’amec the picture on the screen. The familiar ledge at Sand Witches, like the ones around Food Garden Court with two small, rounded dark figures standing there, no bigger than T’amec’s head. One seemingly carrying a book, one in a hat.

“The cameras couldn’t get a good picture of them of course,” the Guard said.

A lot of things in the Mall didn’t even show up on video.

“Uh, how’d they get their order back with them, or did they eat it there?” Skid asked.

“Two of the Corporate Vice Presidents came with them and carried the two trays piled with wrapped sandwiches and onion dip back to the offices.”

Regardless of what was going on back in the offices, the next day went a lot like any other day in the Mall, except for the feeling of uncertain tension that filled the air until late afternoon.

T’amec noticed it first. The Mall was getting quiet. He called for Skid who was back in the kitchen. Skid came out, wiping his hands on his apron.

“What do you need…” Skid started to say. Then he stared. Just like everybody in the Mall was stopping and staring.

A huge goose, about T’amec’s size had slowly waddled down the length of the Mall and stopped in front of Food Garden court.

“Just a bowl of that noodle broth,” the goose said in a familiar voice.

“Mr. P’maced?” T’amec managed to say.

“Yeah,” the goose said. “The Elves got mad. But we did negotiate an upgrade on the lease. But some things were said…”

The goose shook all over, letting a few feathers fall to the ground.

“Uh, here…” Skid said, handing the goose a cupfull of the noodle broth.

“Thanks,” the goose said. “But you’d better put it out here on the floor. And I’m going to the Augury shop after this, to see what they can do about this.”

“Will that be, uh, cash or charge?” T’amec said as Skid rushed outside the store with the broth.

“Not sure where my wallet is,” the goose said, nibbling at the broth. “Or my clothes, come to think of it.” He laughed, a sudden loud, honking laugh. “Tell you what, put it all on my bill!”

—end—